


Down, Dog, Down

by therogueheart



Series: Peter Parker's Kennels [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate universe - Mafia, Animalistic Degredation, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Blowjobs, Dead Dove (Do Not Eat), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Degrading Dirty Talk, Dehumanization, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Humiliation, Injury, M/M, Mafia Peter Parker, Major Character Injury, Mild Blood, No Actual Bestiality, Oral Sex, Peter Calls Tony 'Dog', Serious Injuries, Switch Dynamic, Switch Tony Stark, Topping from the Bottom, Voyeurism, dead dove do not eat, degredation, handjobs, switch peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therogueheart/pseuds/therogueheart
Summary: When Tony, Peter's prized attack dog and bodyguard, gets injured whilst protecting Peter the Mafia Don calls in only the best medical personnel for his care.
Relationships: Preluded IronSpiderStrange, Starker - Relationship, Stephen Strange/Tony Stark/Peter Parker, Tony Stark/Peter Parker
Series: Peter Parker's Kennels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868248
Comments: 5
Kudos: 108





	Down, Dog, Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professional_benaddict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professional_benaddict/gifts).



> As promised, the long-overdue fill to Rafni's request for a continuation of [this prompt fill.](https://starkeristheendgame.tumblr.com/post/619396726752706561/hi-can-i-give-you-a-prompt-if-yes-what-are) I'm just gonna go ahead and call both of these works 'Down, Dog, Down' because I am lazy.  
> The amazing moodboards featured at the start are by Rafni, and you can find the original post for them [here.](https://professional-benaddict.tumblr.com/post/620392575132745728/down-dog-down-by-starkeristheendgame)
> 
> Please heed the tags before reading as this work does contain **graphic depiction of injury, blood and mild gore**. This work is not intended to be a realistic depiction in any regard and should not be considered as such.
> 
> This work is intended as a prelude to the IronSpiderStrange work that me and Rafni are currently collaborating on. No explicit action happens between Stephen Strange and Tony/Peter so it can be read as a completely stand-alone Starker work for those not into Strange ships. I never thought I'd allow myself to work Stephen Strange into a ship, but alas. Rafni wore me down and now you have a five part 'verse.

Peter prided himself on his manners. He might be a prominent name in the mafia community, but dammit, he was _polite_. He ate with his mouth closed and he only interrupted those he was going to kill anyway and he held the door for men as well as women. 

Launching an assassination attempt whilst one was enjoying a British themed afternoon tea was quite possibly and singularly the most _impolite_ assassination attempt one could make. He had blood on his temple and cheesecake on his Givenchy suit jacket and he was _pissed_. Somewhere amidst the smoke and the yelling he could hear Tony’s feral snarls, could see the wraith-like shape of his guard dog moving through the grey smog, a harbinger of Death. It was some small consolation that whoever had ruined his date would undoubtedly end up worse if Tony got to them. 

Peter ducked a sloppy shot and rose again, levelling an outstretched arm and closing one eye as he lined up his returning shot. The ghost-like shape of a figure shuffled in front of him and he squeezed the trigger, letting out a relieved breath as he watched it drop in a heavy manner that could only mean a landed hit. He let out a huff and dropped his gun, looking down at his ruined shirt. Not even the most skilled dry cleaner would be able to save it. 

He reached to his chest and swiped his finger through a splotch of cream, raising it to his lips. It was a little gritty from the dirt, but the sweet taste still shone through. A shame. 

He twisted and picked his way blindly through the rubble, trying to use his arm to shield his eyes from the ash that fell like snowfall around him. It had begun with a smoke bomb, then a very small-scale explosion clearly designed to empty out a room of survivors. Thankfully Tony had been on his feet even as the thing had clattered to the ground, kicking it like some all-star soccer player back towards the door. 

Tony. 

Peter stepped over a fallen table and tried to make out any hint of his Dog through the murk. He wanted to call out, but he knew better. A shape moved off to the side, too short to be Tony, too lithe, and he raised his gun again, firing two mostly blind shots. The shadowy shape staggered and teetered off to one side, and Peter fired again, snarling in satisfaction when they finally flopped to the ground. “Heel!” He barked out venomously, whirling to try and spot Tony through the smoke now the shouts and gunfire had died down. He moved tentatively along and turned when he heard rapid footsteps, tensing up and attempting to brace himself as a dark-clad figure barrelled through the smoke and collided with him. 

It quickly became clear it wasn’t Tony, and he yelled, kicking out viciously as he bounced into the dusty rubble. He sprawled and rolled, hissing as his elbow collided with a chunk of brick. He could vaguely see the man above him now, broad and dressed in typical black gear. Even through the murky smog, Peter could see the glinting smile of a steel blade. Before the mafia boss could launch to his feet there was an animalistic, rage fuelled sound from behind him and a dark streak blurred past, above his head and into his would-be attacker like a canon ball. His saviour landed a brutal push kick to the abdomen of the other man and followed him down with crunching force. 

The fight couldn’t have lasted longer than fifteen seconds, and it ended with a wet, breathless howl. Peter’s heart lurched and he pushed himself forwards, crawling across the dirty floor and reaching for where the shadows converged in front of him. A shadow lurched at him and he jerked backwards, reaching for his gun but it was _Tony_ , bloodied and feral as he grasped at Peter, growling roughly as he dragged the slender Don to his feet shakily. “Tony! What the fuck is-” Peter’s hands grasped at Tony’s jacket and wet warmth. His breath heaved out in a rush and he squinted down, pawing at the gaping tear in the man’s shirt that sluggishly seeped dark blood that looked like ink in the dimness of the room. 

“Move. Out” Tony grunted at him, flinching away from the touch. As though sensing Peter’s reluctance to ignore the wound, Tony reached up, scruffing him like some pup, a fist in his shirt dragging the younger man through the murky rubble. They paused near the shattered doorway, both withdrawing their weapons, though Peter found himself nudged back and behind his bodyguard, tucked away safe as Tony scoped out the area. 

“Tony, you’re hurt” Peter hissed, fingertips digging into Tony’s hip as he guard inched them out into the open, dragging Peter along with him. Tony only gave a soft grunt in response, gun cocked at a sound to their left, but it was only a brick giving up its strength and falling from the wall. 

“I’m fine. We need to leave here” Tony ground out in response, head shaking as he eased them along the front of the building and towards the alley besides it that acted as parking. Peter could see him better in the dim light of the street, covered him with his own weapon as they crept towards the car. Tony was hunched and staggering but determined, and as they paused near the corner Peter leant towards him, pressing a licked, wet kiss to his neck. 

Tony jerked around the corner, gun raised, but the alley was empty. Whoever had come for them had only seen fit to bring a small team. Peter scoffed. “I ought to be offended” he remarked, following Tony cautiously into the dim opening. Tony turned, pinned him to the wall by a gentle hand at the throat, gaze warning. Peter relented and softened, staying put while Tony stumbled around the car, scoping out every inch he could for planted explosives or wires. 

“Clear” the older man rasped, hand slipping on the hood where he’d planted it for balance, leaving a dark red streak in its wake. He lowered the gun and pulled an arm around his torso, face twisting in pain as Peter strode towards him, arms already outstretched to catch him where he sagged. “I’m fine. Get in” his guard dismissed, shoving him towards the passenger door as he reached for the driver’s side. 

Peter growled and dove in on his side, leaning immediately across the console to curl his fingers around Tony’s throat in a carefully measured hold. “If you die on me, I'm bringing you back just to tear your guts out through your teeth" he warned the man, shifting the car into gear for him and settling back in his seat. Going back to the mansion was out of the question and Tony turned towards the outskirts of the city without comment, jaw clenched as he drove. 

Peter whipped his phone out, pleased to find it had survived the attack. He sent off several messages and spent the ride in grim silence, watching Tony out of the corner of his eye. The man drove with ground teeth and iron determination, gaze fixed on the road. 

The safe house was a nondescript brownstone, kept clean and observed weekly by one of the numerous staff on Peter's payroll. Tony parked the car in the alley between the house and its neighbour, hissing with the effort of hauling himself out of the vehicle. In the streetlight Peter could see his slate grey suit was sodden with blood. 

The key was hidden behind a loose brick and Peter swung the door open, Tony's pilfered gun at the ready. "Stay" he commanded, shooting his prized pedigree a warning glance before he swept the location. It was clear, and Tony was sagging against the doorframe when he returned, curled over his wound protectively like a true dog. Peter went immediately to his side again, hands so gentle, so careful where he took Tony's weight. 

It took little effort to bully the man onto the large double bed kept in the main room, stripping him carefully of his jacket and forcing him to lay flat as he turned away, rummaging in the kitchen. He came back with a pair of scissors and cut his dog’s shirt off carefully, blowing out a breath at the reasonably concerning gouge in the man’s stomach. A slice, not a stab, which was better but not great. The wound seemed to move with each breath like it was alive, parted flesh glistening in the yellow light. 

“Did you kill him?” He asked, swiping a finger through the blood and bringing it to his lips. It was warm, a burst of iron across his tongue. The look Tony shot him was _truly_ withering. 

“Of course I killed him” he bit back, a canine bared like the idea he _hadn’t_ was insulting. Peter gave a slow, approving smile, reaching out to card his fingers gently through Tony’s hair. He ducked and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders as he pressed Tony’s ruined jacket to the wound with as much apologetic tenderness as he could. 

“Do not make me lose you” he whispered, and straightened in time for the knock on the door. Tony snarled and moved to rise but Peter lay a hand on his chest, head tipped. It was a very specific knock, a seven beat pattern that made the young Don rise. “Timely as ever” he noted cheerfully, moving for the door and ignoring the outraged howl from behind him.

Dr. Stephen Strange looked as put together and handsome as ever, wearing a smart shirt, charcoal waistcoat and a knee length suit overcoat. His hair had been slicked and styled and he wore his ‘you interrupted something’ irritable face, not to be confused with his generally annoyed look. “I was on a date” the Doctor informed him stiffly, pushing past and into the brownstone. 

“My apologies” Peter drawled back in a tone that blatantly disregarded his own words, leading the Doctor into the room where Tony lay. His dog’s expression soured even further at the sight of Stephen, and Peter would have cooed if not for the fact that Tony had begun to bleed all over the sheets. “Play nice” he warned his pet, waggling a finger at the man as Doctor Strange stripped his coat and waistcoat, moving out of the room and to the kitchenette to wash his hands. 

“What happened?” 

“Ambush whilst I was enjoying supper. Someone tried to gut him” Peter called back, crawling atop the bed and brushing Tony’s damp locks from his forehead tenderly. Tony was his lone weakness, a vice he couldn’t shake nor did he want to. His empire could fall, he could be reduced to nothing, and none of it would matter in the face of losing Tony. 

“You know how to sew a wound” Strange replied disapprovingly as he returned, brandishing the medical kit from the kitchenette. Tony immediately bared his teeth, gearing up to protest, but Peter shifted and gripped his bodyguard by the throat gently, forcing the man to look at him and into his eyes.

“Yes, but only the best care for my most prized possession” he replied, the words directed at both of them. Tony looked fit to protest more but softened, relenting to the grip and letting his head fall back as Stephen took a prim seat besides him, observing the wound with barely a glance at their display of dynamic. Flattery worked wonders on the man however, and he snapped on a pair of gloves without preamble. 

Tony snapped and snarled as the Doctor wiped at the excess blood, but Peter’s hands atop his shoulders kept him in check, subdued enough for the man to wipe the wound clean and douse it in a generous stream of disinfectant. Tony almost did lunge for him then, a feral sound ripping from his throat, stomach muscles rippling. Strange looked unperturbed, but did glance up at Peter as though to double check the control he had over his pet. 

Peter merely cast him a serene smile and stroked a hand gently through Tony's sweat damp locks, ducking to press a soft kiss against his cheek. His dog's eyes were glassy with pain but still so sharply alert, tracking every movement the Doctor made. 

"I'm beginning the stitches now. Do try to stay still" the Doctor drawled dryly as he thread the needle, holding it up so Tony had a clear view of what was about to happen. Tony simply huffed out a breath, turning his head into Peter's thigh like a dog expecting to get beat. The first puncture of the needle made him snarl, low and ragged, fingers flexing in the bedding. 

The Doctor was four stitches in when he threw his hands up, scowling at the bodyguard that scowled straight back. “I can’t work with him writhing about like that. The stitches will be abysmal” Strange remarked angrily, and Peter gave a sigh, drawing himself from Tony’s side to swing a leg over the man’s hips, sitting heavily atop him, hands curling around his belt like a cowboy might prepare to come out of the chute on a bronco. 

“That is the opposite of helpful” Stephen muttered as Peter wriggled to get himself situated, baring his teeth in a smile. Tony’s blood-slick hand came immediately to his hip, squeezing gently as Stephen bent forwards and began to carefully pull another stitch through. Tony’s teeth were ground tight and he was coiled like a spring, but he held Peter’s gaze steadily as the Doctor worked on closing up the wound, his trust in Peter overruling his instinct.

“Such a _good_ boy for me, Dog” Peter praised, squeezing Tony’s wrist gently and grinding down, a forceful but languid roll of his hips that had Stephen sighing and Tony blinking hazily, hips jerking up almost as though it was reflex. 

“If you want his insides to remain inside then I suggest you learn to exhibit some modicum of control over your cock before I leave him to bleed out and see if my date will perchance be up for a late coffee”. It was a string of sentences that anyone else would’ve been gutted for, but Peter just laughed sweetly, grinding down against Tony again and fluttering his lashes at Stephen. 

“Are you sour because you missed your chance to stuff your cock into a wet, warm pussy, Doctor?” He asked lightly, sliding his palm between his own thighs to shamelessly grope Tony’s stiffening cock. “Put my favourite toy back together and I’ve got something you can stick your cock into”. 

Stephen merely sniffed. “You don’t have a pussy, Mr. Parker. And even if you did, I’m not foolish enough to put my cock in places its like to get bitten off”. On the last words he turned his gaze pointedly to Tony, who merely gave him a shark-like smile, all teeth and threat. 

“He only bites when I tell him to” Peter replied mildly, patting Tony’s flank with his free hand as he watched Stephen’s careful, steady hands threading the stitches. The wound would scar, but that didn’t matter. His Dog was covered in scars, stories from both before and after he’d come into Peter’s ownership. Peter loved them all equally for the simple fact they belonged to Tony. 

Stephen pulled and snipped the final stitch and dabbed the newly sewed wound carefully with antibacterial solution, eyeing it critically before peeling off his gloves and dumping them into a plastic baggie with a sigh. “It’ll scar quite visibly, but it didn’t penetrate the gut. Bed rest for a minimum of three weeks, with light walking. No exercise” he said the last part with a pointed look at where Peter was idly riding Tony’s fattened cock through his slacks, sliding the firm globes of his asscheeks along the thick ridge in slow, heavy drags. 

Tony’s face was scrunched in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his breathing carefully controlled with an iron-clad will. Peter heaved a sigh, leaning carefully over the prime specimen of his kennel to wrap a hand around his throat, thumb brushing lovingly over where Tony’s pulse fluttered. “Hear that, Dog? I’ll have to do all the work for the next three weeks” he purred, grinding downwards again. Tony gave a sound between a grunt and a growl, fingers tightening against his hip. 

“Don’t ruin my stitches. He can’t afford to lose anymore blood” Stephen warned as he rose, leaving them to their heady grinding as he washed his hands again. His professionalism was something Peter admired about him, though it frustrated the young man to no end. _Doctors don’t fuck their patients and employees don’t fuck their bosses, Mr. Parker_ Stephen had once informed him cooly, the first time Peter had invited him to join, though Peter wasn’t blind. Stephen always got hard watching him and Tony, always eyed them with ravenous hunger, but like some frugal test of his control he never partook, never accepted their (Peter’s) invitation. 

“Mm, there’s enough still in him, trust me” Peter grinned wickedly, rolling his hips in a circle to really feel the thick shape of Tony’s cock. Beneath him Tony growled a soft moan, lashes fluttering. It was clear he wasn’t up to anything but laying there and taking it though. Peter softened his movements to light and teasing, looking over his shoulder at where Strange stood in the doorway, drying his hands on a towel with his best flatline stare. 

“I will not be held responsible for my patient bleeding to death because you needed your fill of cock, Mr. Parker. If he dies; the blame lies solely on your shoulders” Stephen informed him cooly, an unimpressed expression on his face that was betrayed by the heat of his gaze, the way his cock was half-hard and visible through his smart, pressed slacks. Peter let his gaze drop to it, licking his lips slowly. Gods, but what he wouldn’t give to even see it. Stephen was long and slender, slightly curved, and Peter wanted to feel that length forcing his throat to part around it. 

“If you’re so concerned for your patient, Doctor, you could always lessen the load by _dumping_ a load” he responded coyly, smirking across at the Doctor. Tony’s grip on his hip became bruising and the man _snarled_ like a feral wolf, rutting up once, sharply, against Peter. He let out a rushed breath, gripping Tony’s belt as he looked down. 

“Down, Dog” he commanded, steel in his voice. Tony bared his teeth at him, a low growl rumbling in his throat like the aftershocks of an earthquake. For a man who’d nearly been gutted he looked ready to dive back into the fray and Peter smiled, salacious and lusty. Besides them Strange reached into his medical bag and pulled out a syringe and two small, blue pills. 

"Procaine," he began, brandishing the needle, "and Advil". Tony eyed him mulishly, still distrustful even after all these years, and Peter squirmed backwards, lower on his thighs to pinch Tony's zipper and pull it down slowly, fingers dipping inside the gape of the fabric to wrap around his cock and pull it out. Tony's cock was long and thick enough to make Peter shake each time his guts got rearranged around it, slick at the tip and pretty pink. Peter curled his fingers around it and pumped gently, gaze flicking up to Stephen, who watched stoically, gaze heady and fixed on where Peter stroked Tony with tight, long jerks. 

The young Don grinned and used both hands to encompass Tony's hard length, relishing in the way his pet's breath hitched slightly. He rolled his hips slowly, using Tony's leg to get off as he thumbed the man's leaking tip, squeezing his cock just below the flared tip. At their side Strange uncapped the needle and sat once more, glancing at where Peter fisted the older man briefly before he reached for Tony's stomach, tentative and slow like he knew one wrong move was like to land him a broken hand.

The injection was brief and to the point, sinking into the skin beneath where Tony's wound was angry and red, providing some semblance of temporary relief. Tony kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Doctor's face the way a snake might eye a man before it struck, mulish and spiteful. Peter wondered idly if Tony hated the man because Peter wanted to fuck him, or if he hated the man because he wasn't as opposed to the idea of Strange joining them as he thought he was. When the needle slid free and Stephen moved to get a cup of water for Tony to take the pills Peter wriggled and further down, nudging Tony's thighs apart so he could sprawl between them inelegantly. 

"Such a good boy for me" he praised, squeezing the base of Tony's cock until he gasped, hips jerking weakly. "Such a good Dog for me, hm? My beloved. Keeping me safe, risking yourself for me. If you weren't all beat up I'd ride your cock right here" he purred wickedly, dropping his head to lave a wet, fat stripe up Tony's cock. Tony's skin was solid and soft against his tongue, his cock twitching in his grasp as he let out a hot breath over the tip, giving a luxurious moan. No amount of money or power could ever make him as happy as this did. As Tony, Tony's cock, pleasuring his Dog while Stephen lingered in the doorway and tried to pretend he wasn't blatantly watching. 

"More" Tony demanded on a growl, slick hand flailing until his fingers slid over Peter's soft curls, then through them, twisting to grip a punishing handful. Pain still laced his voice but it was clear to Procaine was kicking in, dulling the sharpness of it. Peter complied, trailed his tongue slowly along Tony's thickness again, like one might lick an envelope. He lapped at the hardness until Tony's skin was slick and shiny with it, moaning softly as Tony tugged on his hair impatiently, sending a blitz of pleasure down his spine that had him rolling his hips, fucking against the mattress with a breathless sound.

" _More_ " Tony repeated, _commanded_ , hauling Peter up and closer by his hair. Peter obliged, parting his lips, letting Tony push his head down so he could push his dripping tip into his mouth, stretching his jaw. Peter took it easily and willingly, laving his tongue along the soft skin and wiggling it into the slit, tasting the burst of salt there before he pursed his lips and suckled hard, like he was trying to pull a golfball through a garden hose. Tony snarled above him, a sound that tapered off into a weak moan. Peter let his teeth drag along the sensitive flesh, giving it the lightest of nips before he squirmed for better balance and flattened his tongue. 

"This is hardly sanitary or advisable" Stephen sniffed from the doorway, but when Peter glanced he was gripping the cup with white knuckles, gaze fixed squarely on where Tony's thick cock disappeared between Peter's pink lips, swallowed down like it was a lifesource. Peter gave a pleased him and suckled harder, pulling back then sinking down and setting up a steady motion, hands keeping Tony's hips pressed safely against the bed, feeling the flex of toned muscle under his palms. Tony's cock was a heavy weight on his tongue, a thick intrusion that made him ache in the best way, drool escaping the corners of his mouth and slicking Tony's cock where he slurped lewdly. 

He pulled off slowly, feeling the drag of Tony's cock along his tongue, the slide against his lips and he sucked in a breath when it flopped from his mouth with a wet sound, only his arm stopping it from flopping up too close to the wound for comfort. Stephen had presumable given Tony the tablets because the glass sat empty near the bed and the pills were gone, Tony blinking down at him with heady, hazy adoration. The Doctor stood off to the side, arms folded and looking for all intents and purposes like nothing was amiss, except Peter could see where the man had hardened against his slacks, cock jutting out underneath his belt unmistakably. It made Peter's own cock twitch in interest, keeping his gaze fixed on Strange as he opened his mouth, let his tongue loll, sucked Tony back into his mouth like it hurt not to have him there. 

Peter was no porn star and admittedly had a gag reflex 90% of the time, but he'd sucked enough cock to know what looked good and what felt good, and he worked Tony mercilessly, lapping at him wetly, keening around him each time Tony yanked on his hair just enough that it stung a little. He let his gaze drop from Stephen to Tony, holding the older man's weighted stare lustily as he fucked down against the mattress without shame, spine arching and hips rolling. It was no candle to the feeling of Tony pounding into him, splitting his ass apart around his cock, fucking into him like a beast driven mad with the desire to breed, but it was still good, still left him moaning around Tony's length. 

Stephen sighed off to the side, soft and resigned. "At least keep him still when he triples your sodium intake for the day then, Mr. Parker". 

Peter would have smiled if not for the cock in his mouth. As it was he pumped Tony firmly with whatever his mouth couldn't cover, cheeks hollowed around Tony's thickness. He could feel him stiffening on his tongue, could feel his cock jump when he let his teeth slide along just a touch. When Tony began to squirm, teeth bared and eyes bright, he pulled off slowly, sucking hard the entire way, and grinned up at Stephen with wet, red lips. 

"Better than some stranger's pussy, Doctor?" He asked lightly and the man pulled a face that might've been an impassive scowl. He'd been caught out and he knew it - Anyone with true disinterest would've left the moment the job was done, but here he stood, hard and devouring every scene they played him with a voracious appetite. Stephen had by far the most steeled will of all Peter's employees when it came to resisting him or him and Tony together, but he was not immune to his own desires, and he had let them rule in that moment. 

"I've been in communication with Wanda for some time. She's hardly a stranger" the man griped back, but it was just another mile into the hole he was digging for himself and Peter grinned, lips parting to shoot back a smug response when Tony's cock slapped against his cheek with a squelch, startling him into looking up at where Tony had propped himself on his elbows, scowling down at him with the indignity of a forgotten lover. While Peter lay gaping at him he angled his cock and thrust his hips upwards at the same time as pushing down on Peter's head, impaling his mouth with his cock, a hiss of winded pain escaping as his stomach muscles flexed. The Procaine was strong but the pain was widespread now and harder to ignore. 

Peter relaxed his throat and kept his mouth soft and slack, nothing but a wet, warm place for Tony to ram his cock into as he undulated his hips, fucking shallowly into his mouth with a soft growl. Tony could be the most impatient of lovers sometimes, with a temper and desire to cum that rivalled Peter's. 

"I hope you're the type to swallow. I won't be re-cleaning that wound" Stephen noted idly from besides them, though his voice was strained as Peter gagged lightly on a particularly deep thrust, eyes rolling. He'd neglected his own pleasure, hips still against the bedding, hard cock pressing against the mattress but ignored for watching the way Tony's teeth dug into his lower lip, eyes flashing as he stalked his orgasm like a predator. Peter let him, holding his gaze as Tony's head fell back and his grip tightened, cock jerking once, twice, then pulsating over his tongue, drooling out thick pools of cum that Peter swallowed readily, drinking down as greedily as the sight of Tony in the throes of pleasure. The sound Tony made was animalistic, hips rutting up in short bursts to chase the heat. 

Barely the moment he'd stopped stuffing Peter's throat with cum Tony hauled him up with an impatient sound, pulling with surprising strength for a pained, drugged man until Peter had to mindfully crawl over him, spine arched like a yacking dog to avoid any risk to Tony's wound as the man pulled him down for a ravenous, deep kiss. Peter hardly realised that tears stung his eyes until one dripped down onto Tony's cheek and startled them both, and then Tony pulled back, looking up at him with a heartbreakingly earnest, doting expression. 

"Don't you fucking dare do that again" he managed, voice a hoarse whisper as he fisted the sheets besides Tony's head, watching the man lick the taste of his own cum from his lips, head tilting. "I can't...I can lose _anything_ but _you_ " he finished weakly, unashamed of his own weakness as Tony made a sound akin to a purr, pulling Peter down so he could lick the tears from his face tenderly. 

"Never" Tony promised him, voice low and raspy. "You will _never_ lose me". 

They stayed like that for a while, breathing in each other's space, allowing themselves to comprehend the prior events for the first time since the attack. It was only when Peter's own lust began to abate, chased away by other emotions that he recalled their guest, and his gaze flicked upwards. Stephen Strange was gone, coat and all, and when Peter looked petulantly down at Tony he fought hard not to scoff at the smug look the man shot him, as though to prove an unspoken point. Peter sighed and rolled off him, settling carefully at his side to card his fingers through Tony's hair, to trace his jaw. They were both still filthy and in dire need of a wash, but in a way it was a refreshing reminder that they'd both walked out of the attack alive. 

Together. 

"We'll win him over next time" Peter vowed, mostly just to see the way that Tony's eyes flashed open, instantly alert and annoyed. "Did you see his cock? Straining like a dog on a leash. I'll break his control next time". 

"Don't make me fuck you into the mattress, brat" Tony sighed, voice far too fond to be chastising as he pulled Peter closer, tucking his head under his chin and wrapping his arm around Peter, snuggling as much as his fresh stitches would allow them to. Peter relented, shuffling to lay his cheek over where Tony's heartbeat thumped within his chest, strong and sure. He'd bully Tony up and into the shower later, but for now he was content to curl up, safe and childlike, protected by the fiercest beast he knew. 


End file.
